


And I'll Stay Right Here

by torakowalski



Category: Die Hard (1988 1990 1995 2007)
Genre: Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-10
Updated: 2010-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Kink_Bingo square bondage (held down).</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'll Stay Right Here

**And I'll Stay Right Here**

"How the hell does this always happen around you?" Matt asks – okay, demands, _okay_, maybe screeches. There are bullets flying over his head, over the reception desk he's crouched behind; he's allowed to feel a little hysterical.

Matt jumps when a hand flattens over his head, then relaxes when he realises it's only John, keeping him still. Yeah right, like Matt's gonna go anywhere else. 

"Fucked if I know, kid," John tells him wearily. "We need to hold here, okay? You good?"

"No, I'm not good!" Matt is totally not good. He's already been shot once in his life, he does _not_ want to go through that again.

John's hand is still on Matt's head; he slides it down now so he's gripping the back of Matt's neck, shakes him. "You _good_?" he says again and yeah, okay, never let it be said that Matt can't be easily influenced.

"I'm good," he relents.

There's a crash above them, plaster shattering from a stray bullet and spraying chunks of white ceiling plaster and pieces of fancy chandelier down over their heads.

"Stay down!" John yells, pushing Matt down onto his back before Matt can react. Matt's shoulder hits the shiny marble floor hard and he bites back a yelp.

"Five star hotel, Detective McClane," John is muttering to himself, even as he blankets Matt. "Don't want to put you out, Detective McClane. Home from fucking home, Detective McClane."

Despite the whole thing with the crazy Gabriel disciples shooting at them, Matt finds himself smiling at John's grumbling. Yeah, he got the same sales spiel from the Feds when they 'informed' (ordered) him he needed to be 'relocated' (dragged) to Washington for the official fire sale enquiry. 

Matt hears footsteps to their left, from the other side of the reception desk that they're holed up behind. Matt lifts his head, wondering if he can see who’s out there, but John presses hard on his shoulders, holding him down against the floor.

John's hands are tight on Matt's shoulders and Matt couldn't move even if he wanted to.

Which, it turns out, he kind of doesn't.

John's upper body is pressed low over Matt's, hot breath brushing Matt’s mouth. It's close and claustrophobic and Matt is suddenly a whole different kind of terrified.

Matt's cock twitches, moving against John's restraining thigh and god, god, shit, _fuck_, now is not a good time for this particular little kink of Matt's to wake up and take notice.

John pulls back. Not far, still careful to stay out of sight of any of the people who want to shoot them dead, but still away, far enough for him to stare down at Matt with raised eyebrows.

Cold air rushes in across Matt's sweat-sticky skin and oh god, even if the crazy people don't kill him, humiliation or McClane will.

"Sorry," Matt mumbles, staring up at the cracked ceiling over John’s shoulder.

John just keeps looking at him, eyebrows drawing together. He takes a deep breath. "Fuck, c'mon. We're getting out of here."

***

Hours later, after the yippee ki-yay, the not getting shot and the Feds giving them a brand new hotel with actual security (gasp), John strips them both naked and shoves Matt face-down onto the bed.

Matt is bruised and achy from earlier, but he is _so_ not complaining. 

"What was it?" John growls into Matt's ear. "The danger?"

Matt would laugh if he weren't so turned on. "No!" he says because he does _not_ get off on nearly getting dead. 

"What then?" John's hand is in Matt's hair and he uses it to keep Matt's head pressed down, keep him breathing in the musty hotel smell of the comforter. 

"This," Matt says, voice muffled, "This. You. That." John squeezes his hand around the nape of Matt's neck, which feels naked and vulnerable, delicate under John's rough, calloused palm. "Hold me down."

John stops, all his weight on Matt's back which grinds and complains, little muted sparks of pain rolling through his muscles. For a minute, Matt thinks John's going to say no, but then he leans forwards, warm words puffing against Matt's ear. "Sure about that?"

Matt nods. If John will give him this, Matt is sure he wants it.

John sits up and Matt almost whines in disappointment, but John's hands are still on him.

"Little bit of patience," John says and then Matt hears him rifling through the night stand, grumbling under his breath. He gives up with a curse and rolls off of the bed, pausing to lean into Matt and growl, "Do not move."

Matt shivers. He can't think of one reason why he'd want to move. He lets himself sink into the bed, waiting for John to come back. He guesses he should be worried that John _won't_ come back, but he's not.

There are thrashing sounds from over where they'd dropped their bags earlier but Matt just keeps his head down, focuses on becoming one with the mattress.

The bedframe creaks when John climbs back on top of Matt, sitting on the backs of Matt's thighs, heavy enough that Matt's going to lose feeling in his legs pretty soon. 

There’s a click and then wet, slick sounds then John’s pushing a finger against Matt's hole. Matt's thighs are trapped far enough apart that John has room to work but John is so heavy that Matt can't move into the touch. Matt can’t do anything at all except take it and oh, oh god, he's been wound so tight these last few months since the fire sale; he needs this.

"I gotta say I'm impressed," John says conversationally, "Didn't think you could keep still this long." His voice has dropped down to his low, super-sexy register; it's almost a purr or maybe what would happen if a purr mated with a growl. It goes straight to Matt's cock, Matt's poor, trapped cock which has no room to go anywhere but straight up against Matt's belly. Matt rolls his hips helplessly, looking for more friction.

John stops what he's doing, pressing hard on Matt's hips until Matt stops rocking and relaxes with a groan. "Yeah, not so impressed now." He sounds caught between pissed and amused and normally Matt would like that, but right now, Matt wants John pleased with him.

"Still," Matt says, "I can be so, so still." He finds himself holding his breath to illustrate just how still he can be, still like a rock, but John laughs and slaps his ass and Matt suddenly has to breathe hard.

"Don't worry about that," John says, "I'll make sure of it."

Matt shudders.

John is taking his time prepping Matt, which _fuck_, now is _not_ the time for that.

"McClane," Matt hisses between his teeth. "Please."

"Does begging work for you too?" John asks, matter-of-fact.

Matt shakes his head. "Not really," he says because it doesn’t. 

"Good." John finally pulls his fingers out of Matt; the kiss against the back of Matt's neck is hard and fast and surprising. "Then don’t. You don't got to."

Matt hears the condom wrapper rip and then finally, finally John is pushing inside Matt, big hand on the base of Matt's spine, stopping Matt from pushing himself back onto John's cock and Matt has no choice but to lie there, taking it, trapped and loving it.

It's good, it's really fucking good, John fucks him harder than Matt knew he could take, moving Matt how he wants him, never letting Matt have any say in where his body goes, and it's just-. It's almost, but it's just not quite enough.

"Okay," John says, "Fuck," and then he's pulling out of Matt, dragging Matt off the bed and down onto the floor.

Matt's knees smart with rugburn and he gets through the 'o' of "ow" before John is pushing him forwards, upper body under the bed, John's voice harsh in his ear, "Don't make a sound or they'll hear us."

Matt's cock hadn't exactly gotten disinterested, but it gets suddenly a whole lot _more_ interested because fuck, yes, perfect.

"Who?" Matt can't help whispering back, wanting the whole fantasy, and he hears John sigh, a _fuck, there's always one more thing with you, isn't there?_ kind of a sigh.

"Gabriel?" John says and Matt knows it's all kinds of fucked up but he moans, pressing his own face into the dusty carpet before John can push him down again.

"We're back in that fucking warehouse and Gabriel will find us if you move even one inch, okay?"

Matt nods.

"So don't move."

Matt shakes his head. Frantically. He bites his tongue against another moan when John shoves back inside him.

"I said _don't move_," John says and presses Matt's face down into the carpet. John is fucking him hard and slow and tirelessly and Matt can't breath. He can't move. He can't do anything except, oh. He can't do anything except _come_, orgasm shaking him from the inside out, hard enough that he can't bite back the long, low sounds he makes.

John lets him lie in a heap for a minute then grabs him by the hips and pulls him back so they're out from under the bed. "Yeah, well, I think the bad guys probably heard that and we're dead," John tells him. He rolls Matt over, presumably so Matt can see the full force of his eyeroll. "You're fucking loud."

"I am," Matt agrees willingly; he's too fucked out to do anything but agree. Apparently the fact that he's also fucking _kinky_ isn’t worthy of comment. That's nice. 

John's lack of hair means that Matt can see that he's flushed absolutely everywhere. His cock is still hard, dark and leaking into the condom, but he waits for Matt's brain to float back towards reality before asking, "Okay if I finish?"

"Any way you want," Matt tells him. He stops John's hand when it slides back onto his hip. "Seriously man, anything." John just gave Matt his number one fantasy without even really needing to be asked; Matt would honestly do anything he wants right now.

"This is good," John says. His eyes dart sideways, avoiding Matt's for the first time ever. "Just you."

Oh, okay. Huh. "Okay," Matt says, because well, who wouldn't agree to that.

The tips of Matt's fingers feel numb and his whole body is still useless from orgasm but he manages to scrabble at John's shoulders until he gets John's face close enough to kiss. He's too uncoordinated still to do more that just push his mouth against John's, but luckily, John takes over from there. 

John slides his hands under Matt's back and pulls him up onto John's lap; the two of them fumble John back inside Matt. Matt does his best to hold himself up against the side of the bed while John fucks him but his muscles feel like jelly and it's a pretty lacklustre performance on his part. John's hands sliding up and down his back and John's harsh breath on his face tell him that John's past caring. 

"So, McClane," he says into John's ear, mouthing at the side of John's head while John strains against him. "Feel like playing Nakatomi Tower next time?"

It makes Matt grin that John's trying to laugh even as he comes.

/End


End file.
